


Worthy

by tangerine (arte)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Loki kidnaps de-aged Steve with no memory of being Captain America.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, do you think you're in a position to order me, Captain?"</p><p>"You brought me here. I think I'm in a position to demand some answers. And why do you call me Captain?"</p><p>"That's right, you're nothing now, aren't you?"</p><p>Steve gave him an unimpressed look.</p><p>"You're living a real sad life if you had to kidnap a stranger to insult the guy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Somewhere, he was sure, Bucky Barnes was smiling a vindicative little smile, because Steve was about to admit that yeah, maybe repeatedly getting hit in the head by bullies were not the best road to maintaining clear cognitive ability. His head wasn't cracked now, but all those years of damage -not to mention all those fevered days- must have done something to him. Maybe he should have been a bit less... reckless (happy, Buck?) to prevent hallucinating like this.

Of course, there was a possibility that he was dreaming this up, but no, he refused. He would never, in a million year, imagine himself waking up in a pool of dirty, oversized, stars-and-stripes clothes. His subconscious wouldn't be so cruel as to force him into this clown of a thing with sleeves and pants that required to be rolled up for ridiculous amount of times to prevent tripping up and belt that barely held everything together. Hallucination, albeit a creepily realistic hallucination, would at least mean that his imagination was working under duress.

Although he had ranted a bit, if his clothes had been the only strange thing, he wouldn't have necessarily questioned his eyes. (Sanity of the world, certainly, because there was something wrong about people dressing up an unconscious fella in an oversized, cartoonish outfit, dumping him in ruins, and going off to their merry way) No, but there had to be a fire breathing dragon and a guy fighting against it. 

With a hammer.

Oh, had he mentioned the fact that the guy could fly?

So yeah, not real. 

Steve stared as the man proudly raised the hammer upward and lightening conveniently chose that exact moment to strike the dragon down. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he had to admit that it was quite fascinating to watch. His hallucination sure knew how to be dramatic. 

However, his amazement faltered as he watched the dragon's tail catching the guy off guard and smacking him right through a building. The impact was such that the entire building tumbled down instantly. The casual display of distructive power, unlike the earlier fire that had harlmessly dissipated in the air, jolted Steve out of his complacent state. 

_Was the guy okay? Had there been people in that building?_

Doubt ceized him. He swallowed.

_What if this was somehow real or close to it?_

A senseless thought, but it stll made horror tug at his stomach. It didn't help that everything felt so real. He tried to deny it over and over again because it just wasn't possible, but he knew what hallucinating felt like. His head felt too clear for that. His whole body ached all too familiarly for it to be a dream. Maybe that meant he went truly insane, but as absurd as the situation was, if there were any chance that this was real-

He was already running before his thought could be finished.

 _God, he hoped he won't slip out of this oversized piece of shit while he was facing a dragon.That would be embarassing._ The thought suddenly came, unbidden. He supressed a hysterical laughter and focused on racing toward the hammer that had fallen out of the man's grip. If what he read from _The Hobbit_ was worth anything, he had to attack somewhere that wasn't covered with scales. He hoped eyes would be a vulnerable enough place because he didn't have any time to find somewhere else. As he came close enough to grab the hammer, however, it belatedly occured to him that 1) maybe the guy himself was magical and the hammer had nothing to do with summoning lightning and 2) even if the hammer had the power, he had no idea how to use the thing.

He sent a quick glance at the dragon, heart pumping. Fortunately, it seemed he remained undetected. Or more likely, deemed as no threat. The mythical creature was half turned away from him, puffing its breath at the fallen building. It was trying to gauge whether or not the man was truly dead. He had to do something before it decided on the next course of action.

"Uh," despite his resolution, he hesitated. Was the hammer magical or not? If it was the latter, he was screwed. He was self-aware enough to know that he didn't even have enough strength to throw it at the beast and actually hit it. For the peace of his mind, he decided to just assume it to be the former and go with that. He took a deep breath.

"Hi, I'm Steve Rogers," he introduced himself awkwardly, because it never hurt to be polite, especially to anything magical. Anyway, the situation progressed way beyond surreal that he couldn't make it anymore worse if he tried. He might as well talk to a hammer. "I think your owner, uh, master? Is kind of in trouble, and I don't think it would be a good idea to let a dragon wild in the city. So, could you please aim lightening at the dragon's eyes, if you can? I think it would at least distract it for a bit."

There was no answer, of course. He thought there would be a dramatic sign or something, but maybe you actually needed to wield it for that to happen. Hoping that this would work, Steve grabbed the hammer. For a second, he was sure he felt some kind of a pulse and almost snatched his hand back. Stop freaking out, he scolded himself sternly, and before he could talk himself out of it, lifted the hammer toward the sky. 

To his surprise, rumbling thunder answered him.

He stood frozen in place as blinding light cracked and attacked the beast. Enraged roar filled the air, rearing against thunder. The vibration made Steve's hair stand on end.

And then the fire came.

It was obvious that the dragon was aiming at nothing in particular. Nonetheless, a streak of flame found its way to rush toward Steve. It didn't engulf him, but it came close enough. He gasped at the wrong moment, and his lung felt like it was burning. 

He couldn't breathe.

Clutching at his chest, he took in a stuttering air. One, two, he tried to inhale and exhale regularly, but it was difficult. His vision swam and the hammer slipped out of his hand. He sank to his knees. God, it was absurd. Drangons, fire, magic, and here he was, wrestling with asthma.

Hell if he was going to let it win.

He didn't know how long his struggle lasted, but by the time he regained the tenuous control of his body, he was too exhausted to contemplate the matter. 

"Captain!"

A voice like thunder yelled from distance, but maybe it was his imagination. He couldn't concentrate. His eyelids felt too heavy.

He just needed some rest.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up to the cheerful greeting of sterile smell and white ceiling. He vaguely wondered which of his many health issuses landed him up in hospital this time. He mentally checked himself. Nothing in particular stood out.

That was when the memory of a drangon and thunder hit him. 

Eyes wide, he scrambled to sit up. Hospital, that must mean that everything had been his hallucination. What kind of state had he been to conjure up such vivid nonsense? He hoped there had been no last rites offer involved. He had enough of it to last few life times.

"Calm down, cap. No one is seriously hurt."

He started at the unfamiliar voice. On the spot where his friend should be sitting was a woman with shoulder length hair. She had scratches all over her, and white bandage peeked through her sleeves, but she still looked nothing less than poised. Steve wondered why a girl like her was bothering to sit next to him. She was not a nurse, judging by her loose sweater and pants. 

"You remember what happened?" She asked. 

Apparently, conversation was happening. That never happened before.

Which was more unreal, he asked himself, a beautiful dame noticing him in the middle of hospital, or a giant dragon breathing fire in the middle of city?

"There wasn't any dragon, was there?" Steve chose.

"You wish," she snorted. "A dragon, this job is ridiculous." She somehow managed to shift gracefully on hospital chair. "So, heard that you're ready to ascend to godhood." 

He blinked at the non-sequitur. What godhood, he thought of asking, but he must have heard wrong. Afterall, he had still been reeling from her easy acceptance of the dragon. 

"Mjolnir, Steve, remember?" she rolled her eyes, as if she thought that he was being too slow.

Unfortunately, her comment clarified precisely nothing. Her knowing his name only worsened the matter. He rubbed his face. He wished the world would make a goddamn sense already.

"Ma'am, I have no idea what you're talking about," he hid behind his hand. God, he never knew continuously second guessing himself could be so exhausting. "I don't even know your name. I, I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna make a good company for a while." 

Silence descended. Steve waited for her to leave, close the door behind and go. However, nothing happened. She didn't move at all. Soon it became uncomfortable enough for him to face her again. She met his eyes, not unkindly. Slowly, she said, "I know this might sound like a strange question, but I need you to answer it." He noticed how she had carefully tucked away the casual openess she had shown a moment before. Her neutral politeness made Steve feel parched. "What year is this?" 

A simple enough question, but Steve couldn't shake off the feeling that it was some kind of a trick. Warily, he replied, "1940."

The woman blew out a soft breath, a mixture of _I knew it_ and _I didn't want to know._

She stood up.

"Excuse me, I've got to call someone."

"Wait," Steve called. He wasn't going to delve into her reaction at the mention of the year, 'cause that would likely be another can of worms he didn't want to deal with, but he had to ask this. "Have you seen my friend here? Bucky, he got black hair and blue eyes, about yea high."

She stilled, half turned. 

"No, I haven't," her faced softened a little. "I will.. try to explain after the call. Wait here a bit."

With that, she was gone.

\--

Alone in the room again, Steve no longer had anyone to distract him. Mind, the dame did make him even more confused in some area, but she still kept him away from thinking too much. Now, his mind was keep playing is-this-real-or-is-it-not game and it was driving him crazy. As his frustration reached an unbearable level, he flopped down on his stomache and screamed into the pillow.

This had to stop, Steve thought resolutely as he raised his head back up. He couldn't act on basis that everything could be false.

So what happened if he assumed things were real? The question popped into his head. What was the worst thing that could happen if he did while he was actually hallucinating?

I could hurt people, the answer came readily enough. But would it be that much of a problem? It wasn't like Steve could do much damage even when he intended to fight someone (he grimaced a bit at the thought). So yeah, this could work. He could be extra careful not to hurt anybody until all the weirdness died down. He winced as it occured to him that maybe the dragon might not have been a dragon. Okay, so animals and people. That was okay. 

He exhaled, forcefully loosening his shoulders. Nothing changed, but the resolution made his headache lessen a bit. He closed his eyes. It was terribly tempting to just let sleep sweep him away.

But Bucky.

From what she said, it seemed like Bucky didn't know yet that Steve got hospitalized. He knew from experience that Bucky would soon be tearing down the streets to find him. Better return before he gives me another earful, Steve thought, and got as far as sitting up on the bed with his feet touching the ground. 

"Ah, it is good to see you awake," the door opened to let a large blond man come in. Steve recognized his long hair and the hammer at his side.

"How come you're standing?" It was not the most polite reply he could have made, but a man who had crashed into a building shouldn't be able to move around like that.

"I am made of a sterner stuff," the man grinned. 

Bullshit.

The comment somehow made him snap.

"You flew, fought a dragon. That ain't being made of sterner stuff," Steve bit out. Frustration that he had just managed to put a lid on a moment before exploded. "Either I've gone crazy or the world has. Don't joke if you're not gonna explain anything."

"Oh," the man looked taken aback by his ire, but inexplicably guilty as well. It made Steve squirm inside a little for unfairly lashing out at the guy, but he didn't say anything. He wanted to hear what the guy had to say. "So you truly...Natasha told me. My apologies. I would tell you what I can. You've been asleep for two days."

Two days? Jesus, Bucky really was gonna kill him. 

Steve decided to forego information gathering and go back home immediately. So he would have, if his stomach hadn't chosen that moment to make itself known loudly. He blushed in embarassment, but the guy didn't seem to mind. 

"I would bring something for you. Is there anything you would favor?"

"Um," Steve hesitated as the guy's face turned impossibly hopeful. It made him doubly guilty for lashing out, which in turn made it difficult for him to say no. "Thank you, but I don't want to impose-"

"Nonsense," the man cut through his feeble effort. "Your aid was crucial to defeating the dragon. This is the least I could do."

Steve wasn't sure what had been so helpful about him fainting was, but didn't bother to put up an argument. It occured to him that it might be better for him to eat something before he had to face Bucky and explain what the hell he had been doing for the last two days. His friend would freak out more if Steve returned home half starved and confused out of his mind. Thirty minutes, tops, he vowed to himself. Then he would be going.

The man smiled, satisfied. "Take your rest, then, I would-" he abruptly stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening in alarm.

Steve opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but clicked it shut as someone grabbed him from behind. He whipped his head toward the mysterious intruder, but before he could identify them properly, the world squeezed around him like it was turning inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too happy with this chapter since I had to rewrite it after my first draft got deleted, but here it is. Feedback would be welcomed :)


	3. Chapter 3

With a thump, Steve fell on his bottom. The landing didn't do much to dissipate his nausea. It was like getting out of the Cyclone at Coney Island all over again. He managed not to throw up this time, but more because of his empty stomach and less because of his fortitude. The heaving still left his chest aching. 

"Dear me, Captain. I didn't think you would be so weak."

At the silky voice, Steve forced himself to stand up, as he wasn't going to take that lying down. He had a rude retort at the tip of his tongue, but got distracted as he realized that he was no longer in the hospital. Instead, he was in a living room of sorts that had large windows with shuttered shades and high arched ceiling. Shelves full of books surrounded the place, with leather couch and wooden table in the middle. It was beautiful. Steve felt the urge to look around. Peek through a door behind a tall man who must be his abductor, even, so he would be able to see the rest of the place. 

This really wasn't time for that. He shook the feeling away.

"How," he managed, then cleared his throat. He reminded himself once again to stop questioning his sanity, to just roll with punches. "Magic?"

The man tilted his head, long black hair spilling over metal plate which sat on complicated web of leather. It was not something Steve thought wizards would be wearing, but it did good job in creating otherworldliness.

"What else could it be?"

"You tell me," Steve replied flatly. He was sick and tired of opening his eyes to find himself in unfamiliar places.

The wizard quirked his brow. "Oh, do you think you're in a position to order me, Captain?"

"You brought me here. I think I'm in a position to demand some answers. And why do you call me Captain?"

"That's right. Hmm, you're nothing now, aren't you?" 

Steve gave him an unimpressed look.

"You're living a real sad life if you had to kidnap a stranger to insult the guy."

The wizard's eyes darkened as he stepped forward. Steve inwardly braced himself, expecting a punch to his face. Without raising his hand, the man stopped right in front of him, mouth slowly curving into a mocking smile.

"Surely, I couldn't think to compete with your own sad life?" questioned the wizard, voice soft. If they hadn't been standing so close, Steve wouldn't have been able to hear him with only one good ear. "Look at you, a sickly little boy incapable of achieving anything. Was there a time you haven't been a burden? You're worthless."

"That so?" retorted Steve, swallowing back the sting the words had caused. "Strange, it seems to me that _you_ are the one who kidnapped me, not the other way around."

The wizard narrowed his eyes. "Had it not occured to you that I may be merely trying to dispose of you?"

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" Steve spread his arms, head tilted up challengingly. "You afraid of taking on a little guy like me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Then spit it out. What the hell do you want from me?"

The man opened his mouth, a look of barely contained storm on his face. Steve glared on. He wished this useless back and forth would end and let him free to go back home. 

Abruptly, the wizard whirled. He stalked toward the door and shut it with a reverberating slam.

Caught off guard, Steve stared at the door as his captor disappeared to. It was so jarring to be suddenly left alone that the first thought that came to his mind was _should I call him back?_ Which was an epitome of stupidity. Steve almost slapped himself for that. You didn't try to further engage your abductor when he went off. You fucking ran before he came back. 

Hastily, Steve moved. The front door stood, waiting. He tried to open it, even though a part of him knew that it wouldn't work. True to his suspicion, it didn't budge. And because he was already inside, picking locks was not an option, either. 

Having a wizard as your kidnapper was really not rewarding.

It was too early to give up, though. Maybe, if he broke the window, he might be able to escape through there. He turned, grabbing a kitchen chair on the way back. In front of the window, he had difficulties with the shades, but managed to get it out of the way.

"What in the..." 

He was lost for words as he took in the view. For one, jumping through the window turned from 'a stupid, but plausible plan' to 'downright suicidal move' since he found that ge was hundreds of feet above the ground. 

Despite everything, Steve had been hoping that he was still around Brooklyn, that he would be just a few miles from home. He had been hoping that he would be able to return to the rickety old apartment and say, 'Hey, Buck, sorry for worrying ya, but I had this crazy day.' He would have even welcomed waking up next to Bucky's loud snore.

Yet, he didn't feel like waking up anytime soon, and this was not Brooklyn.

The buildings around him stood just as tall, soaring through the sky. Glasses on the buildings glittered darkly as sunlight hit them. Steve didn't know whether or not he should be thankful for his bad vision. The world was keep shoving into his face how strange everything was, and honestly, he didn't need that. 

"Is the view not to your liking?" The wizard asked from his behind. Steve didn't care why the man decided to come out again.

"Let me go," he said without looking back, subdued.

"Really, would you even know where to go?"

"Thanks, but I think I can find my own home. Let me go"

"I'm afraid that I can't, in good conscience, do that." 

That was the most absurd statement he had ever heard. Steve turned to shoot the man an incredulous look. The man put on a patently false look of sincerity. "You see, you're more than 70 years in the future. Your home doesn't exist."

"You're lying," the rerort came almost automatically.

"Look again. I think you might be able to see some familiar buildings. After all, we're still in New York." 

Steve didn't look. If that was true... well, it was not like he knew for sure what was true anymore, was it?

When he had decided to presume that everything was real, he hadn't quite thought about the situation where he would _need_ what he was seeing to be not real.

"You want me to believe that you went to all the trouble of traveling through time to just kidnap some kid from Brooklyn?" asked Steve, willing his voice to be steady. He wasn't going to break in front of the man, imaginary or not.

"Hardly," the man snorted delicately. "Believe it or not, you were already in the future when I found you. I merely... intercepted before other parties could get a hand on you."

 _What other parties?_ he almost questioned. He wondered if the lady and the blond man he had seen were the part of the said 'other party.' He pushed the thought away, however, since it seemed dangerous to build speculation over what the man said.

Besides, dealing with one wizard in front of him was already headache inducing enough. No need to worry himself over people who were not even here. 

"What did you intercept me for?" Steve asked instead.

"Not many people jump time," the wizard shrugged nonchalantly. "You're an interesting speiciemen."

Steve didn't like the sound of that. For that matter, he didn't like the way the man looking at him like a particularly persistent bug, either. "What, you gonna experiment on me?"

"I didn't think you would object," the man said, feigning surprise. 

Fuck you, thought Steve. 

"I object." 

"Too late."

The news he heard about Nazis came to his mind. He didn't think wizards would much care for human politics but still.. "What's the experiment?"

"Now, telling you would skew the result, don't you think?"

Steve considered jumping out of the window. It might be better in the long run. 

"No need to be dramatic," the wizard commented, showing his palms in a placating gesture. Could he read his mind? The thought was terrifying. "I promise, there would be no harm to your person during the experiment."

He didn't miss the emphasis on _during the experiment_ part. "That's hard to believe, considering you threatened to kill me few minutes ago."

"Well, how was I to know you would be so vexing?"

The reply was so blase, as if the whole thing was somehow Steve's fault. He felt like bashing his head on the wall. For all the words they had exchanged, none of them produced definite answers. And Steve was never one for mind games.

"Would I ever go back home?" the word slipped from him, unintended. He clicked his mouth shut, appalled that he would ever let his weakness out loud like that. He focused on schooling his features, lest he say something more in his fatigue.

The wizard smirked, something like triumph in his eyes.

"That would depend on you, wouldn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Steve & Loki interaction scene. Like it? Please give me some feedbacks! :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Stark, we have a situation."

"Natasha," Tony said, blinking a little. It took a while to take in the new presence since information about the serum, Steve's condition and the idiot sorcerer who caused all this mess were swirling around in his head. "Why the sudden visit?" He asked, because he knew no good news could come out of this. He gestured toward Bruce so the Avengers could get a little tete-a-tete without tripping over Shield lackeys. 

Natasha cocked her head. "Well, I would have loved not to come all the way down here, but it seemed no one was interested in picking up their phones."

"Hulk really isn't compatible with phones," Bruce raised his hands, readily supplying her with a good excuse. And sadly enough, that was also the truth. Bruce had been on the street when the dragon first made its appearance, and had to Hulk out unexpectedly. As he had been slaving over in Shield lab and medical center to work with the doctors ever since the day one, he hadn't had the time to fetch another phone. 

"Uh- mine's in a jacket," Tony said, thinking quickly. "Didn't mean to ignore you, really. So what's the situation?"

Natasha didn't look like she believed him, but continued. "You might need to change how you approach the problem. Steve woke up but he's not just de-serumed. He lost his memories as well."

"What?"

"He called me ma'am and thought that it's 1940." 

"Good thing his manners are always impeccable," Tony quipped half-heartedly and mussed up his hair. Great, not only did they had to work with super ambiguous serum, but now they had to deal with super ambiguous memory problem as well. Come to think of it- "Have you told him it's 2014 yet?"

Natasha shook her head. "No, but Thor might be telling him now."

"Thor?"

"He came to visit while I was trying to call you. And I thought if Steve was going to believe any one of us, it might be the guy with a hammer he recognized," Natasha curled her lips wryly. "And conveniently enough, Thor got a magic hammer that makes him look all sincere when he says 'Magic made it happen.'"

While Tony hated explaining away anything with that dreaded 'm' word, he had to admit that the dragon kind of ruined the show in keeping that aspect down. Besides, accepting magic might make it easier for Steve to swallow the tales of super soldier serum, being frozen in ice for 70 years, and waking up to lead a team of superheroes to fight aliens and sorcerers alike.

"So are we going to focus on getting him, uh, re-aged now?" Bruce inquired, directing the conversation back to work. 

Tony inclined his head. "Or, the memory loss might be a separate problem. In which case, we still need to focus on making the serum work again." 

"But-," Bruce frowned, deep in thought. "If this Steve doesn't remember, would he even want to get the serum back?"

Tony opened his mouth, about to say of course, but paused. He hadn't given the matter much thought since as far as he had known, they were only trying to get their injured captain back on his feet. The longer Steve remained unconscious despite having no outward injuries, the surer they become that the serum must be the problem. The only reason they had worked so hard, surviving on caffeine and wild ideas, was for Steve's sake. 

Yet, if the man himself had no memories of past couple years, why would he say yes to undergo dangerous procedure to fight with people who might as well be strangers to defend the world he didn't recognize?

"We can worry about it later," Natasha said, small furrow betraying that she was likely fighting off a massive headache. "Anyways, if you boys don't have anymore questions, I'm going to go back and help-" she couldn't let the rest of her sentence out as her phone began to ring. 

"Ominous," Tony muttered. At times like this, sudden news always pointed to something going south. Murphy's Law was practically made for them. He dearly hoped that Steve's condition hadn't suddenly took a steep dive or something.

As expected, Natasha's expression turned more and more stony as the call proceeded. 

"What was that about?" Tony asked as soon as she got off the phone. He felt edgy.

Of course, the universe didn't disappoint him.

"It's Loki."

\--- 

Steve's stomach grumbled loudly.

The sound felt surreal as he stood, facing the wizard. He had forgotten that he had been rudely snatched away from his first meal in two days when he arrived here. He guessed adrenaline rush from being kidnapped could do that to you. 

The wizard looked at him, then sighed, annoyed. After a moment, he crooked his finger, half-turning as if it was a foregone conclusion that Steve would follow him. Steve remained immobile.

The wizard quirked his brow. "Was I wrong in assuming that you would want to eat food on the table?" 

No reply. 

Impatience sipped into his tone. "Come, I would hardly let my test subject die of starvation."

For a brief second, Steve entertained the idea of telling the man to go screw himself. He was feeling justifiably spiteful, after all. However, his stomach was promising mutiny if it were to be kept empty, and he did need food if he was going to try anything. Lips pursed mulishly, he walked toward the dining area.

With a swish of hand, a simple soup and few pieces of bread appeared. The wizard bypassed the table, and chose to lean against the nearby wall. Steve wordlessly pulled the chair back, and sat. He picked up the spoon and swallowed a mouthful of soup. It was simple, but filling. A brief thought that it could be poisoned crossed his mind, but surely, there was much simpler way to off him. 

Nibbling a few bites of bread, he tried to use this moment of peace and quiet to analyze the situation. Physically, he was pretty much stuck in this place with no escape. He had no idea how to fight magic. As much as he loathed to admit it, the wizard was the key to his freedom. He had to convince the wizard to release him or at least make him lower his guard.

Steve chewed slowly as the gears in his head began to run. What was the guy's angle, anyway? The man did say that his time displacement issue was what caught his interest. Yet, he couldn't figure out any use a man from the past would have. The only relevant experiment he could think of was a vague social experiment regarding his adjustment to the future, but it seemed awfully time consuming and trite for wizards to do.  
Of course, the wizard could have been lying. Was the experiment euphemism for torture? If the man was holding him for sick pleasure, talking would lead him nowhere. On the other hand, if the experiment was not too harmful in nature, if the man was willing to let him go in the end but was just being an asshole about it, there was a chance.

"Are you sure I'm actually going to be useful?" Steve questioned, testing his ground. Even as he spoke, he had little hope for receiving straight answers. It was just that he had such pitiful amount of information. The wizard was his only source of intel right now.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, if you're doing some kind of time jumping experiment, it's not like I can tell you how I did it," an unpleasant idea popped into his mind. "And if you need me for some kind of spell... (as an ingredient, he didn't say) well, I can't think of any useful one."

"My," the wizard glanced at him dryly. "I didn't know that you were such expert in sorcery." 

"I ain't," Steve said quickly, not wanting to shut down the conversation before he could glean anything. "But you said that time travelers were rare, and that I had to remain ignorant for the experiment to succeed. If that's some kind of pre-requisite for a spell," he shrugged. "It seems awfully convoluted. I thought wizards would find a simpler way of achieving things."

"Hmm," the wizard crossed his ankle. "Are you suggesting that I kidnap another person?"

Where did that even come from? "No, of course not."

"But you seemed to be implying that I picked the wrong person," the wizard pulled himself off the wall and crossed the room. With ponderous air, he perched himself on the seat in front of Steve. "If that is the case, are you nobly offering to be held captive for other's sake?"

There was a strange glint in the wizard's eyes. Steve ignored it in favor of making his point. 

"You don't have to kidnap anybody to study something." 

"I beg to differ. Would you have said yes if I asked nicely?"

Steve crossed his arms. "If you explained everything and I agreed with your idea, then yeah. That's how consent works."

"But I distinctively remember you objecting before I could say anything."

"And I distinctively remember being kidnapped before being asked anything." 

"Ah- pardon my... enthusiasm, then," the wizard inclined his head minutely. "I had thought it was my only chance to ask you."

"Really? How did you plan to ask when you can't explain your mysterious experiment?" 

"I might have been exaggerating in that regard," the man propped his chin in his hand. "I thought you would intentionally sabotage the study, you see, given that you seemed adamantly against it."

Frankly, Steve didn't buy anything the wizard was saying. He knew what he saw. When the wizard threatened to kill him, the look on his face, it hadn't been mere annoyance for potentially foiled experiment fueling the man. There had been a glimpse of murderous desire, to squashy the pesky little problem who caused a mess of volatile emotion inside him. Whatever was holding the man back now, it wasn't chagrin against his past behavior. Steve waited for the man to come up with plausible justification.

"To put it simply, I wanted to know how you would deal with the knowledge of future."

For a few seconds, the words failed to be registered. Steve blinked. Of all the inane things- "You did this, everything, so that you could ask few questions?"

"Not precisely- there are several subjects I'd like to delve into."

"You-," Steve sputtered. "Why?"

"Why not?" The wizard shrugged. "Humans- the rate they change is astonishing."

"You say that like you're not human."

"I'm not, incidentally. The name's Loki. You may know me as god of mischief," he said, wearing superiority naturally, like a well-worn clock.

Trust Steve's luck to get him caught by a megalomaniac with a delusion of grandeur. 

"Right," Steve responded, failing to hide his skepticism.

"Your doubt wounds me. What did you think I was?" asked the self-proclaimed god. He produced a mist-like light at the tip of his hand, and began to toy with it casually. 

"Not god," the reply came swiftly. "I thought... a wizard?"

"A wizard," light vanished from his hand. "The more apt title would be sorcerer."

"Noted," Steve didn't have the strength to bicker with the title of group of people who he thought only existed in fairy tales few hours ago.

Loki didn't seem to care for his unenthusiastic reply. "So what do you say, is it yes?" 

"If I say no, would you let me walk away?"

"Now that we're past our misunderstanding, yes." Pause "Of course, I would have to search for another one, then."

"That's not-," Steve took a deep breath. "That's not real choice."

"Isn't it?" Loki leaned close. "Tell me, Captain, what makes you so sure that I'm up to nefarious business?"

Captain, again. Why did the man use that title? A part of him wondered, but the rest of him was busy seething. He knew when he was being toyed with, and hated letting anyone get away with that. Steve had already planned to play along for the lack of better options, but being taunted like this was galling. 

He fisted his hands tightly.

"Fine, let's do this. Let's see if you can change my opinion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters, now Steve finally got to learn Loki's name x)

**Author's Note:**

> Loki and Steve, the pair of them somehow hijacked my life. I suddenly had a serious need for pre-serum Steve and Loki fic. This is the result.
> 
> That said, I would love to talk to anyone who shares my feeling for the pair of them. Hope you enjoyed the fic!


End file.
